


Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones

by laurynmakay



Category: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Overdone Shakespeare references, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurynmakay/pseuds/laurynmakay
Summary: Whilst wandering the halls of Pemberley, Lizzie comes face to face with Mr. Darcy, kind of.This missing scene from the 2005 movie is how I imagine Lizzie realized her true feelings for Mr. Darcy.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet & Georgiana Darcy, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 138





	Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones

”Miss Elizabeth, you seem diverted” 

”Yes, I supposed I am a bit distracted”

”Your thoughts are not on your novel, where have they taken you?” Georgiana had stopped her playing and was leaning across the pianoforte towards Lizzie with her face in her palms. 

The two girls, along with Mrs. Gardiner, were seated in the large, sunny music room at Pemberley, occupying themselves with one thing or another, while the men, Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Darcy, were out fishing, but Lizzie couldn't keep her mind on the page. The truth was, she was replaying the events of the past week or so, and the months before that as well she supposed. Specifically, she was recounting her every interaction with Mr. Darcy. His harsh words at the Meryton assembly, the way her skin felt as though it was burning every time his hand grasped hers while they danced at Netherfield and she had tried to understand him, and his disastrous proposal to her where he bared his heart to her and she crushed it in her rage. Then she had been so sure of the horribleness of the man and how much she hated him. But now, she was so lost, so distraught. It was like he was a changed man. He was kind, joyful, attentive to his sister, to her and her family. Lizzie could sit with him for hours, discussing music and literature, laughing as they tossed banter back and forth. She didn't hate him at all anymore, but what was left?

”Miss Elizabeth?”

”I'm so sorry, I think I need to take a moment’s break.” She closed her book and placed it carefully on the chaise next to her. Her aunt was looking at her like she knew something Lizzie didn't. 

”You are welcome to explore the halls of our home. No room is off-limits to you. Or if you wish, I could call the housekeeper to give you a more thorough tour?”

”No!” Lizzie cursed herself for answering too quickly, as she had the time Mr. Darcy had offered to see her back to the inn. ”No, I am quite alright to wander on my own.” 

Lizzie did wander the halls, stopping in whichever room caught her eye, more focused on her thoughts than her direction. She was still preoccupied with deciphering her heart and her mind. She found herself back in the hall of statues. Once again, they captivated her, somehow in that moment they felt more real to her than the man on her mind. She had thought she knew him before, and had learned she was wrong. How could she be sure that what she thought she knew now was real? It scared her how much she admired the warm and loving man she now knew. A man who was willing to hurt his own best friend, because he believed he could spare him from future heartbreak. A man so devoted to his sister, practically raising her single-handedly. Her heart ached with how apologetic she felt towards Mr. Darcy and she began to regret her outright refusal of him, wishing instead she taken time to get to him, or at least have talked with him rather than shouted at him, regardless of how cathartic it felt at the time. 

She tried to force her attention back out of her mind and onto her surroundings. She read each placard below the statues, recalling the myths that accompanied the magnificent marble figures. She was surrounded by tragic greek heroes, and ancient royalty, and the fictional figures of Shakespeare's tales. She was stunned at the artist's ability to capture an entire saga in a single moment’s pose. The statues felt alive to her, she swore there was a warm spark of life in each cold stone eye. One statue, an image of Romeo holding a corpse-like Juliet in his arms, seemed to mirror her own devastation. 

Her meandering was stopped abruptly at the sight of the next figure, the bust of Mr. Darcy himself. She studied his features with a closeness she couldn't otherwise manage. His face looked different, younger. It was likely to have been carved a few years ago. She let her eyes drift over the softness of his face. His hair was swept over his forehead, his gaze strong but not harsh, and his lips were just barely curved into the semblance of a smile. It struck her with the transcendence of its handsomeness in his features. He was perfection to her. This man. This incredible and infuriating and perfect man. 

She stepped forward, face to face with the bust, gazing at its eyes. She reached out and brushed the very tips of her fingers over the hair of the statue. As real as it looked, to lacked the softness she imagined Mr. Darcy's had. Her fingers slid down the marble and caressed over his cheekbones and then down across his jawline. She left them there as her eyes welled up and a single tear fell down her own face. With the knowledge that she could never possibly touch the real mr. Darcy like this, she would never be able to caress him, the man she loved. 

She realized it then, with such a ferocity she didn't understand how she had missed it before. She was in love with Mr. Darcy. 

Her incandescent and devastating moment was cut short by the arrival of the housekeeper informing her that the men had returned and the rest of the party would be gathering to dine soon. She had to force herself to step away and turn her back on the closest she would ever get to being with the man she loved.


End file.
